


Dämmerung

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018), The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: A slightly more eldritch take on gods, Fix-It, Let Hypnos be simultaneously adorable and a badass, Note to Patroclus: never mention the name Sisyphus in front of Hypnos, They’re both protective but Hypnos is lowkey the scarier twin, Unhinged Achilles just wants his man back, because of the eldritch touches, very very slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: “I… I will not be able to convince him to stop fighting.” Patroclus said carefully, wary of displeasing a god, “Even my word cannot dissuade him from his destiny.”“See that’s the fun part, you don’t have to convince him of anything.” Hypnos smiled, “In fact, you don’t have to do anything for this plan. We’re just gonna take you out of the equation for a little bit, that’s all, grant Achilles some clarity of mind.” Patroclus’ eyes went wide as he put it together, fists clenching on his thighs at Hypnos’ blithe air over such a cruel plan.“I am to be held hostage?” he rasped, heart heavy and throat tight, “To be used against Achilles like... like a favored toy dangled over a misbehaving child?”
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Hypnos & Thanatos (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Hypnos, and I love Achilles going absolutely feral when Patroclus is taken from him, so why not combine them!

“Huh.” a creaky voice at his ear woke Patroclus from his light afternoon doze, his eyes snapping open as he tensed, “So you’re what the fuss is all about. Is it weird that I thought you’d be prettier?” Patroclus lunged upwards, grateful to Achilles for insisting he keep a dagger under his pillow as he aimed for the intruder’s throat. The intruder yelped, leaping back to avoid his thrust with a strangled shriek.

“Whoah!” he exclaimed, holding his hands out in a placating gesture as Patroclus leapt from the bed, taking a defensive stance as he glared at the intruder, “Easy, easy! Not here to hurt you!”

“Who are you?” Patroclus demanded, “How did you get into our tent? Why are you-?”

“All very good questions!” the man interrupted him brazenly, “Questions that will be answered just as soon as you put that knife down.” Patroclus opened his mouth to respond, to say something cutting and threatening, but a couple of things registered at once. 

First, the intruder had a shock of pure white hair that held a slight glow. Even the stars at night couldn’t achieve such utter purity of color. 

Second, his eyes were the most unearthly shade of yellow, pale and luminous with a visible shine, like citrine washed out from the sun. 

Third, his skin was a strange mix of lilac and ash, seeming almost to phase in and out of shadow wherever the filtered sun touched, as though he was not meant to be under its light. 

Fourth, the intruder was  _ floating _ several inches off the ground, his legs curled under him like he may drop off to sleep at any moment, hovering like he hadn’t a care in the world. 

There was something else, a pressure in the air, subtle and nearly unnoticeable, yet clearly originating from the intruder. Patroclus felt his hands begin to shake as he realized that this man was decidedly not human. A closer observation confirmed his worst fears as his blade dropped from suddenly numb fingers. 

He was in the presence of a god.

“We cool now?” the man-  _ god _ grinned as Patroclus sank to his knees, seeming somewhat amused by his show of reverence, “We are cool! Name’s Hypnos, I’m the guy that makes you sleep good. Pleasure to finally meet you, Patroclus.” A god knowing his name and actively seeking him out was a bad sign, and Patroclus felt fear swell in his chest as the god continued to smile cheerfully at him with that dimpled smile. Hypnos was beautiful, but in an abstract way. Like the moon’s reflection on the glittering surface of the sea, or the bleached white of bone made pale with time. Patroclus found that looking directly at him was difficult, his gaze naturally sliding away from him like water off glass, unable to focus on him for more than a few moments. If he tried to force his gaze to remain on him, the edges of his vision would tunnel and warp, almost as if he were looking at him through some abnormal lense, the image of him growing strange and indescribable as his mind struggled to parse his presence, and the prickling sensation of pins and needles across his eyes and brain was not worth the novelty of looking upon the face of a god.

“May I ask why you are here?” Patroclus managed, and immediately regretted it when he made the mistake of glancing briefly up into Hypnos’ eyes. The mere act of their gazes meeting caused a jolt of physical pain in his head, like something sharp stabbing just behind his eyes. Those pale yellow irises brought to mind creatures concealed in the dark just beyond the firelight, their silent gazes reflected eerily in the flickering shadows. Even as he averted his gaze as quickly as he could, the mere act of meeting the eyes of Sleep filled his chest with the sensation of smoke in his lungs, and he had to cough a few times to disperse the uncomfortable feeling, breath stuttering as thin wisps of white smoke escaped his lips. White like the Lethe. White like Hypnos’ hair. 

“Sure can!” Hypnos chirped, the dying stars he called eyes leaving imprints burned into Patroclus’ vision, like he’d stared at the sun and couldn’t blink away the afterimage, “And I’ll even tell you, too! But you have to promise not to get mad.”

“Get mad?” he asked apprehensively, and Hypnos let out a giggle that almost sounded nervous. 

“So the long and short of this whole thing.” he started, “Is basically that this war is getting too real, you know? Like even gods are taking sides and that’s ridiculous, so we need it to end, right? The whole thing has gone a bit too far. But Olympus is all divided about who should win, which is dumb. So my bosses in the underworld decided they’re just gonna force a peace, yeah? No winners, no losers, just some nice people shaking hands and going home because we’re kind of sick of this shit.”

“And how do you intend to perform such a miracle?” Patroclus asked hoarsely, and Hypnos flashed him a mischievous grin as Patroclus tried not to be disarmed by his childish dimples.

“See, that’s where you come in!” he giggled, playfully tapping his nose with a sleep-warm finger, “My mom disguised herself to get a read on Achilles, and thanks to that enlightening conversation we know that Achilles would never willingly give up glory and fame, and he’s kind of the biggest factor in this here war, so we needed to find a way to  _ make _ him agree to the peace, get me?” 

“I… I will not be able to convince him to stop fighting.” Patroclus said carefully, wary of displeasing a god, “Even my word cannot dissuade him from his destiny.”

“See that’s the fun part, you don’t have to convince him of anything.” Hypnos smiled, “In fact, you don’t have to do anything for this plan. We’re just gonna take you out of the equation for a little bit, that’s all, grant Achilles some clarity of mind.” Patroclus’ eyes went wide as he put it together, fists clenching on his thighs at Hypnos’ blithe air over such a cruel plan. 

“I am to be held hostage?” he rasped, heart heavy and throat tight, “To be used against Achilles like... like a favored toy dangled over a misbehaving child?”

“That’s a wonderful analogy!” Hypnos exclaimed, “You know, you should write poetry. But yeah, that’s basically it. He can have you back when he learns to play nice with the gods. Until then I’m just gonna put you to sleep real quick, and you won’t wake up until the war is over. Nice, right? You get your man back and you don’t even have to lift a finger.”

Patroclus could not imagine this going well at all. He could picture with perfect clarity Achilles finding his slumbering form, how he’d smile indulgently and pull him into his arms to wake him as he always did. How he’d start out with coaxing kisses and soft murmurs, trying to cajole him into waking with sweet affection. How it would slowly shift to concerned furrows of his brow and gentle strokes of his hair, Achilles’ calls for him steadily increasing in volume and physicality the longer Patroclus remained unresponsive, escalating to frantic shaking and desperate cries of his name as leaden fear filled his throat. How quickly would that fear turn to anger? That despair to terrible fury? Would he challenge the heavens as he so often claimed he would? 

What if he decided that glory was more important than love?

_ “I would rail against the gods themselves.” _ he’d whispered into Patroclus’ throat one rainy night so long ago, the sentence nearly lost amidst rolling hips and pleasured cries, Achilles’ eyes intense and wild, unblinking as they stared down at him like he wanted to  _ consume _ him,  _ “If they ever took you from me, if  _ **_anyone_ ** _ dared try, I’d tear Olympus down by the roots and slay the gods one by one until you were back in my arms.” _

He didn’t want Achilles to challenge the gods. He didn’t want him to storm Olympus or fight Zeus himself or rally against the heavens or any grand gesture of devotion. Anyone could do that. All Patroclus ever wanted was a future with Achilles, a hope he clung desperately to even as the war raged on and on. 

But Achilles was a stubborn, possessive man, and he hated when his things were taken from him. 

“And if I refuse?” Patroclus asked without hope, knowing that if the gods had made their decision, nothing would sway them. Hypnos only hummed, waving his hand in his airy manner. 

“Then we just kill you in some horrible way and leave your mangled body for Achilles to find.” he chirped, “And I get to say that I at least tried the peaceful option. Why, thinking of resisting?”

“You were afraid of my dagger.” Patroclus observed without intent, remembering the way the god had flinched earlier, “That means you can probably die, if only temporarily. I could just kill you and warn Achilles.” But it sounded hollow and unconvincing even to his own ears, and Hypnos only giggled like he was indulging a petulant child. Perhaps to a god, that was indeed all he was.

“I mean, yeah, you could kill me.” he tittered, eyes flashing with something that was gone too quick to identify, and another wisp of unnatural smoke drifted from Patroclus’ lips, “But then I’d just wake up at home. And I’d be mad. My brother would also be mad. You know Thanatos, right? Death Incarnate? He doesn’t like me going to the surface, you know how big brothers are, but he always gets so  _ upset _ when I die, and I don’t wanna accuse him of anything, but I always thought it just so strange how every single mortal who has ever harmed me was given to Alecto, you know, the most deranged and sadistic of all the Furies? After they died.” his eyes gleamed, blanched and lurid like two autumn moons reflecting the impish amusement on his pale face visible even when viewing him with only peripheral vision, “That really a fate you wanna tempt?”

“I... I get the sense that I have little choice but to accept the nice nap.” Patroclus swallowed, only slightly frightened, and Hypnos’ smile was short-lived before he added quietly, “Achilles doesn’t like being cornered. He likely won’t forgive this. He’s... proud.”

“I’m not worried.” Hypnos said dismissively, “Demigod or no, I would ruin that young creep if he tried anything.”

“Creep?” his brows furrowed, and Hypnos leveled him with a disbelieving look.

“Have you  _ seen _ the way he looks at you?” he asked incredulously, “Like, scary intense, even when you’re not doing anything. Guy even watches you sleep, did you know that? He always looks like he wants to eat you, all the time, it’s  _ weird.” _ he shuddered, “The look in his eyes when he watches you is like if Dionysus and Aphrodite had a baby, and it embodied the worst aspects of madness and love, and then that baby grew up and had a baby with Aite, and then that baby took madness and desire and mixed it with all-consuming obsession and-“

“I-I think I get the idea.” he flushed as he hastily cut the god’s rambling speech, “I am not... unaware of how he can... fixate. When he has a bad day.” 

“Every day must be a bad day then.” Hypnos snorted, “But sorry, I totally got off track. The point is, I think I’m safe. I mean, what could a mortal like Achilles do against the gods?” Patroclus’ mouth worked faster than his mind, as was his fault, and the words were tumbling out before he could think about them. 

“Your brother was chained once, if the stories are true. I wouldn’t put it past my Achilles to do something like that again, if he felt... felt the need... to....” The air around them had begun to shift, a pressure building that he could feel in his gums, and Patroclus realized he may have made a mistake mentioning Sisyphus’ transgression when Hypnos’ previously friendly demeanor went completely, terrifyingly dark. Patroclus felt his gaze dragged to the ground against his will, and try as he might he physically could not force his eyes to so much as twitch towards the now angered god. 

“Well, he’ll have a hell of a time getting past our family.” that pitchy voice was still cheerful and bright, but there was now an otherworldly quality that Patroclus felt acutely, the sound like a physical grip squeezing his bones and stealing the breath from lungs that abruptly filled with white smoke, sending Patroclus into a fit of pained hacking that Hypno simply talked over like his desperate ragged gasps meant nothing to him, “And if he did try to lay hands on my brother, I know  _ exactly _ how to punish him. He would do well to remember that his  _ philtatos _ is a very easy target, and there are a thousand agonies that I alone could inflict on you before death is even on the table.”

“I-I only meant... to warn you-“ he tried to speak through the fragrant smoke, but Hypnos cut him off with a sharp giggle that left his ears ringing, and he distantly felt a thin stream of blood begin to trickle from his ears. Clearly the chaining of Thanatos was a sore spot. 

“Oh I know.” there was a smile in his voice, somehow both friendly and menacing all at once,  _ “You _ seem like a really cool guy, I’d like to be your friend, maybe we can hang out after you die. Achilles, however, I would maim. When you wake, you should probably let him know how merciful we’re being, we’re really being extremely nice to you guys here. I mean, we could have easily gone with Thanatos’ idea to just snatch your soul from your body and leave you lifeless and cold. Or we could have had the Furies hound you invisibly and whip you each time Achilles did something wrong. You know, like psychological torment?”

“I-I-“ some of the pressure eased, some of the smoke dissipating, and Patroclus was finally able to drag his eyes up to look at his face again. He kind of wished he hadn’t, as the expression on the sleep god’s face could best be described as  _ unearthly. _ Indescribable.

“We also thought about making you fall in love with someone else.” Hypnos continued, his dimpled smile not quite able to distract from the unnatural stillness of his face, the way his features shifted and changed in a disquieting way that made Patroclus’ head hurt, “There was even a betting pool over who would enrage Achilles more, Hector or Agamemnon. Can you imagine suddenly falling out of love with Achilles and being consumed with a terrible longing for his worst enemy? Can you  _ imagine _ the look on his face if he saw freaking  _ Hector _ embracing you like a lover and stealing you away to Troy?” Patroclus shuddered at the very idea, his heart clenching in his chest when he dared try to picture Achilles’ expression in such a scenario. 

“He’d lose it.” he whispered hoarsely, and Hypnos laughed like the idea amused him. 

“I even suggested you be kept with Primordial Chaos.” he continued, and Patroclus wondered distantly if his shadow been writhing like that the whole time, if it had always covered an area far too large for the god’s slight frame, “That way even when he got you back, you’d be utterly changed. Mortals physically can’t handle their realm without going mad, so your mind would be completely warped and shattered after just a few moments there, let alone however long it takes for Achilles to cave. You’d be like a constant reminder to him not to mess with the gods, you know? Wouldn’t that have been awful? Wouldn’t it have been so  _ mean?”  _ Patroclus had to wonder then if the stories weren’t wrong, if the chthonic sibling to be feared was not gentle Death, but fickle Sleep. Bringer of nightmares, twister of perception, a lurking shadow whose aspect included gleefully parading the paper-thin masks of people, simulacra of familiar faces, in the theater of the mind, making them dance like puppets on a string as he clouded the mind and twisted thought and memory into something unrecognizable. This deceptively benign god was the weaver of dreams and the keeper of every mortal’s deepest fears, the one god who could withstand the vast abyss of the human subconscious. He drew the deepest parts of a person out while they lay at their most vulnerable, knowing things about them that they themselves couldn’t even imagine. A god with power over even the Olympians. 

Patroclus was afraid. 

“That was... your suggestion?” he asked, his voice only cracking a little. Hypnos quirked an eyebrow as his features settled again, no longer as headache-inducing as the last of the smoke mercifully vanished from Patroclus’ lungs. The ever-present smile didn’t waver, although there was still enough of an edge to it to keep Patroclus wary. Too little sleep could kill a man, but so too could too much. Hypnos had an innocent air about him, a lazy grin and a sleepy gaze, the very picture of languorous somnolence, and Patroclus had to wonder how much of it was real and how much was so that he could remain unnoticed and unbothered. But when Patroclus dared glance at those waxen eyes, he saw a glimmer of intelligence. Sadism, even. This was a god content to remain where he was and happy to laze, but Patroclus was rapidly learning that he could not let his easygoing demeanor lull him into underestimating him. He could not for a moment forget that he was in the presence of a god, and a dangerous one at that, one as mysterious and ancient as the night itself, and just as treacherous.

His reaction towards even a hint of threat towards his brother confirmed at least that much. 

“It was.” Hypnos idly waved his hand, grinning widely as if he sensed the direction of Patroclus’ thoughts, “Now when compared to all that, I’d think that a nice nap is a phenomenal idea, don’t you?”

“You... make some reasonable points.” he answered diplomatically, and Hypnos’ answering peal of laughter seemed to lighten the air a little. Patroclus was still wary though. 

“Oh come on, you can say ‘threats’, it’s fine.” he laughed, his features softening further, “But come on, we’ve wasted enough time, Achilles will be back soon and you need to be asleep when he gets here. Any requests before we do this thing?”

“I... You swear Achilles will not be harmed?” he asked, clasping his hands together with nervousness, or perhaps pleading, beseeching this unpredictable being to spare his Achilles, “He’ll be safe and unhurt?”

“Completely unharmed.” Hypnos confirmed with a little bounce, “The only negative consequence he’ll have to deal with is the loss of violent glory, which honestly isn’t such a big deal. Or at least it shouldn’t be when compared to his beloved, right? Anyway.” He gestured to the bed, and Patroclus knew that he could delay no longer. He rose to his feet, forcefully tamping down on the helplessness threatening to choke him as he settled on the furs he shared with Achilles, knowing that soon his lover would discover what had occurred and Patroclus would be completely unable to spare him the pain. Hypnos, to his credit, seemed to know what he was doing. He laid his sleep-warm hand across Patroclus’ forehead, ignoring his flinch, and drew the blankets over him like a mother tucking in her child. A surprisingly tender gesture from the frightening god, and Patroclus couldn’t help but wonder if he truly did care for the mortals whose rest he controlled in his own way. 

“I’ll ease you into it.” he smiled, all anger seemingly forgotten as he patted his chest reassuringly, “Just dropping people into sudden sleeps is a great way to cause headaches, so I try not to do that. The best sleeps are the ones that you drift into, and I can ease you into the best sleep you’ve ever had.”

“I’m not worried about myself.” Patroclus murmured, relieved that his voice didn’t crack, and Hypnos gave a soft laugh in response.

“Don’t worry about anything, alright?” he murmured, his touch like smoke on the water as he smiled down at him, “Your dreams will be beautiful, and when you wake, the war will be over and your beloved will be beside you.” Warmth seemed to seep from the god’s gentle hand, washing over Patroclus like a summer breeze, relaxing his limbs and tugging gently at his eyelids, coaxing him to close them just for a moment. 

“Achilles...” he murmured, interrupted by a satisfying yawn that left him blinking sleepily, “Don’t let him... do anything s... stupid...”

“Stop thinking so much.” Hypnos’ voice was like the beat of a butterfly’s wings, soft and light like Achilles’ eyelashes against his cheek, “You’re fighting me.”

“S’rry...” he yawned again, and Hypnos tucked a lock of hair behind his ear with a quiet sound. 

“Chuang Tzu dreamed he was a butterfly.” he murmured softly, his voice like the gentle waves of the river Lethe as his unfamiliar story began to set Patroclus adrift, warm and safe and so so heavy, “He dreamt that he flitted from flower to flower, and while he was dreaming he felt free, blown about by the breeze hither and thither. He was quite sure that he was a butterfly...” His voice was like a lullaby, the images he conjured soothing and comforting, and Patroclus succumbed to the power of Hypnos with a soft exhale.

He dreamed he was a butterfly.


	2. Chapter 2

Patroclus woke slowly, in inches. 

At first he only registered light sensation. Soft furs, a cocoon of blissful warmth, two objects like solid iron bands holding him tight against a firm object. There was something warm pressed into his throat, and whatever it was was soaking his sleep-warm skin with water that smelled of the sea. That sensation nagged at him, trying to drag him further from the leaden embrace of his dreams with the distant certainty that something was wrong. Scent was the next thing to return to him, and his senses gradually filled with the achingly familiar scent of firewood and polishing oil, broken only by a hint of that same oceanic saltiness that coated whatever held him. 

He considered trying to twitch his finger, but the effort required was too monumental to even fathom, so he remained adrift in gentle darkness for now, though he faintly sensed that it wouldn’t be long, as his hearing followed soon after scent. The waking world slowly came into a hazy sort of awareness, and he could finally register the distant clamor of the camp, the singing of a nearby bird, and the ragged breathing from somewhere near him, a sound that might have been his name echoing distantly in his ears. He didn’t know how much time passed as he floated in the space between waking and sleep, but eventually he heard a soft noise, like a gentle sigh, or a creaky voice whispering to him, and all at once things began to shift into focus. Warm, familiar hands on him, stroking up and down his arms, running through his hair, cradling his face in a way that might have been a touch too rough if he could feel anything besides the pleasantly heavy warmth right now. Sleepy and warm and languid, he almost didn’t register that soft tickle of hair on his face, the feather-light brush of lips against his ear. 

“Why aren’t you waking?” a voice, familiar and beloved, whispered heatedly, something frenzied in the quiet hiss, “They promised me. They  _ promised! _ Patroclus, my love,  _ please...” _

Patroclus felt his heart stir. Something about that voice...

“Don’t you know you’re everything to me?” a plea, a prayer, an invocation, “If you’re gone, that’s it, it’s over, don’t you see? There’s nothing in this fucking world worth saving if you’re not in it, nothing at all. Troy, Odysseus, Briseis, Greece itself, all of it. They can all burn for all I care. You must return to me, if only to protect the world from your Achilles.”

Achilles...

“Wake up!” the voice-Achilles?- snarled, the sound low and animalistic, like a wolf caught in a rapidly closing trap. Patroclus’ lack of response must be agitating him, “Wake up right fucking now, Patroclus! I need you, your Achilles needs you! My light, my love, my jewel, my siren, come  _ back!” _

Achilles... His Achilles...

“You swore you’d never go where I cannot follow!”

Achilles, Achilles,  _ Achilles- _

_ “Patroclus!” _ Pa-tro-clus, that tone, furious and commanding with a tinge of mania, could make even the strongest-willed man tremble, and Patroclus was no exception. Memories surged back with all the gentleness of a tsunami. Achilles. Hypnos. Achilles. The war.  _ Achilles. _ Despite the clinging tendrils of sleep still reluctant to let him go, he gathered every shred of strength he possessed, desperate to get that horrible tone out of Achilles’ voice, desperate to comfort the man he loved more than anything in the world. Yet even with all his strength, all he accomplished was a flutter of his eyelids, but that tiny motion seemed to be enough, as Achilles’ desperate shouting abruptly ceased with a strangled sound, as if he’d been struck. There was dead silence around him as he struggled to do more, to pry his leaden eyelids open, to reassure Achilles that he was here, that he heard him. A hand clasped his, cold and thin and desperate, and Patroclus could feel the faintest of tremors as it clutched him tight enough to hurt.

“Patroclus?” a breath, a prayer filled with desperate hope, a soft exhale of warm breath across his face, “Can you hear me? Have you... come back to me?” Patroclus finally managed to slit his eyes open, flinching only slightly against the too-bright light of the sun before a shadow covered him, protecting him with blessed shade as he forced his vision to adjust, the world slowly coming into hazy focus around him. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Achilles’s haggard face hovering above his own, that tumbling curtain of golden hair falling around their faces, secluding them from the rest of the world as they gazed at each other. Achilles looked a wreck, his face gaunt and cheeks hollow, his eyes bloodshot and wild with a hint of some quiet madness that hadn’t been there before, tears streaming from those beautiful green eyes like a downpour onto Patroclus’ slack face. 

“Have you been eating?” was the first thing Patroclus asked, wincing at the rough scratch of his voice as Achilles’ eyes tightened, and he wondered how long he had slept to render his voice so raspy. Achilles didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled away. Patroclus didn’t have time to express his alarm before Achilles knelt by the bed, grasping his sleep-warm hand between his own cold ones and gripping it hard as he brought it to his lips for a fervent kiss, looking for all the world like a supplicant at the altar of his god as his tears continued to pour. Patroclus felt dizzy as he stared at him with open surprise, still too addled from the unnatural sleep to protest this unnerving behavior. 

“You’re awake.” he whispered fervently, and Patroclus was alarmed to see that he was trembling, “Gods, at last, you’re truly awake. You are, aren’t you? We are awake? This is not just another cruel dream from wicked Sleep?”

“I’m… almost certain I am awake.” Patroclus cleared his throat, feeling his body trying to sink into the furs despite his best efforts, “I had the most unusual dreams, but now I am here. I am… quite sure that I am Patroclus, finally returned to you, but for all I know I’m merely a butterfly dreaming that I am Patroclus, and all this is occurring in my head as I rest on a flower.” Achilles scowled, his shoulders tensing. 

_ “Foul Sleep.” _ he hissed, and the venom in his voice could corrode the hardiest of metals, “An honorless snake hiding behind a docile face. It was not enough for him to steal you from me, now he clouds your mind and makes you doubt your very reality.”

“In his defense.” Patroclus squeezed his hand, “I don’t think that part is his doing.”

“It matters not.” Achilles kissed his hand, keeping his lips pressed to the skin like he could breathe him in if he just tried hard enough, “He will never lay hands on you again. Never. No one will. I will slit my own throat and tear out my beating heart a thousand times before living even a moment without your voice again.” It was then that Patroclus really took a good look at Achilles. He had been healthy and full of energized vitality when Patroclus had last seen him, and yet his absence had clearly not been handled well. He was thin, his clothing hanging slightly off of his frame, and pale as if he hadn’t been in the sun for some time. His hair was wild and unwashed, hanging around his gaunt face like the rags of a ruined war banner, framing streaming eyes and lips bitten ragged. Achilles right now resembled a starved dog, a pitifully loyal creature that gazed up at him as if Patroclus held the key to salvation, as if Patroclus’ very presence had the power to make or break him, as if Patroclus could be the most pathetically tiny butterfly in the world and Achilles would still cherish and protect him like the greatest of treasures, plucking all the flowers in the world just to keep him happy. 

If this was how Helen felt, having to live with endless war being waged by men who loved her, then he pitied her more than the lowliest beggar. 

“You look terrible.” he rasped rather than respond, disquieted. It was a gross understatement, and Achilles had the grace to look ashamed, ducking his head down as if to spare him the sight of his dismal face. 

“When you didn’t wake, I...” he started hesitantly, nuzzling his hand in a manner far too adorable for the half-starved mess before him, “I lost it. Completely. I must have woken the entire camp with my panic. I believe Machaon may hate me now. The way I acted when he could not help you was… perhaps a touch unhinged.”

“Achilles.” Patroclus chided gently, willing the damning hoarseness to leave his throat as he weakly squeezed his hand, “I fear for you. Your anger is dangerous, for you and everyone else.” Achilles shuddered, as if hearing Patroclus chide him was some great ecstasy. 

“Patroclus.” he murmured, something raw and aching in his voice as he pressed his hand to his cheek, “You are all that stands between my anger and the world. You keep me in check. I cannot... Without you, I could not...”

“That’s...” Patroclus felt like the scum of the earth for not resisting more, for not accepting whatever horrific punishment Hypnos would inflict rather than put Achilles through this. Nothing could be worse than seeing that desolate expression on Achilles’ face, and he prayed fervently that Hypnos had at least cleaned the blood from his ears before leaving him for Achilles to find, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Achilles kissed his knuckles again, “Your only crime was being loved by one such as I.”

“I could have fought Hypnos harder.” he murmured, tugging lightly at his hand, and Achilles released it as if he’d been burned. That wasn’t remotely what Patroclus wanted, and he made it clear by grasping drowsily at Achilles’ arms to pull weakly at him, and his lover went easily as Patroclus pulled him to lay atop him. Achilles settled delicately over him, as if afraid to put his whole weight on him, and Patroclus huffed. 

“I am not made of glass, Achilles.” he murmured, his voice finally starting to sound less like a dying cat, “I’m tired, and embarrassed to be held hostage like a damsel in distress, but not broken. Do I not deserve to hold you after the time I’ve had of all this?” It was admittedly a low blow, but the results spoke for themselves. Achilles immediately wrapped his arms around him and held him tight, burrowing close to him until not an inch of space dared separate them, and Patroclus only felt his soul begin to settle when he was safely in those arms again. 

“You… You slept for so long.” Achilles murmured into his throat, his arms shaking slightly as he held him, his still falling tears wetting his skin, “Weeks of agony beyond measure. And you didn’t wake right away when the peace talks finished, even though I’d done everything they’d demanded… I was afraid.”

“But I’m awake now.” Patroclus murmured, lifting his pleasantly heavy arm to bury his fingers in Achilles’ unwashed hair, frowning with slight disapproval to hide the worry gnawing at him, “And you clearly haven’t been taking care of yourself, love. What would everyone think, seeing their  _ Aristos Achaion _ in such a state?” Achilles gave a short bark of laughter, humorless and dark, and tightened his embrace imperceptibly. 

“They all pity me.” he said with a wry smile Patroclus could feel against his skin, “They would look upon me with such sympathy when I’d spend every free moment cradling you, or when I’d talk to you constantly as if you could hear me, or when I’d do my parchmentwork with your sleeping form in my lap because I couldn’t bear to have you out of my sight lest the gods come again to take you. Even during the peace talks, I was barely present. They…” he cleared his throat, embarrassment coloring his tone, “They had to talk me out of carrying you with me to the negotiations.”

“What?” he blinked, “Why on earth would you want to drag my comatose ass to something like that?”

“I was scared.” he admitted far too easily, “I was unwilling to leave you alone for even a day, and I didn’t trust anyone else to stand guard over you in your vulnerable state. I know the hearts of men, and you’re… you’re so beautiful, Patroclus. Even in an unnatural sleep.” His meaning was clear, and Patroclus couldn’t help a snort of laughter that he would forever deny was a giggle. Achilles started, lifting his head slightly to stare at him as if the sound had robbed him of his senses, and Patroclus was gratified to see that his tears had finally stopped flowing. 

“Again, you overestimate my charms.” Patroclus smiled, leaning in to rub their noses together, “How many times must I tell you that no one wants me as you do?”

“And how many times must  _ I _ tell you,” Achilles gave a watery little smile, “that you only think that because I chase off all your suitors?”

“Suitors that only exist in your head.” he said without heat, smiling helplessly as Achilles scoffed, “You see anyone who so much as smiles at me as a suitor.”

“Agree to disagree.” Achilles huffed, reburying his head in the junction of Patroclus’ throat, “And it doesn’t matter now. The way I acted when you were taken from me is sure to make everyone steer clear of both of us for a long time.”

“Oh, Achilles...” Patroclus reached up to brush a lock of golden hair behind his ear, his touch lingering as he cradled his cheek, pressing his dry lips to the crown of his head, “I’m here now. I’m awake, and I won’t leave you again. You let me handle everyone else, alright? You need to rest, I’ll make sure no judging eyes reach you.”

“Just awoken and already trying to take care of me.” Achilles gave a strained little laugh, “When it is my job to protect you. It matters not, everyone thinks I’m mad now. And they’re right, Patroclus. They’re right. Without you, I... I went mad.”

“Achilles-“

“I went  _ mad.” _ he rubbed his face against his throat, as if scenting him, “I can barely remember these last few weeks. They all blend together in a whirl of fury and ceaseless talking and holding you and weeping and this terrible terrible  _ emptiness _ and I... I caved. The gods won in the end, despite my best efforts. I just did as they wanted like a good boy, because they had you.” He sounded so bitter, so resentful, and Patroclus loved him so much it hurt. 

“Thank you.” he murmured, kissing his hair again as he tightened his embrace, “For not doing anything stupid. When Hypnos came to me, I half feared you’d try to storm the underworld. Call me selfish, but I’m so relieved you didn’t.” Achilles’ shoulders tensed at the mention of Hypnos, but the rage drained quickly, far too quickly for one such as Achilles, whose rage would often last for days even on the pettiest matters. Patroclus’ brow furrowed, but Achilles spoke before he could even open his mouth. 

“I wanted to.” the confession was no more than a whisper, his eyes squeezed shut as he grasped Patroclus like a lifeline, pressing him a touch harder into their bed, “So badly it hurt. I wanted to tear them all apart with my bare hands. I wanted to drench the underworld in chthonic blood and demand they return you to me. I didn’t, in the end, but I still-“ he cut himself off suddenly, and Patroclus tilted his head curiously at the uncharacteristic hesitation. 

“Achilles?” he prompted gently, and Achilles pressed a brief kiss to the junction of his throat. 

“I... In the early throes of my rage, I… I did something foolish.” The confession was almost too quiet to hear, and Patroclus felt his heart clench, ice flooding his veins as his imagination immediately went wild. 

“What did you do?” he whispered, and Achilles pressed closer to him as if he wanted to merge into him. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, and the sheer amount of  _ pain _ in his voice made Patroclus ache for him even through the fear, “I’m supposed to be your shelter, but instead I was the reason you were targeted, and then I nearly...”

“Achilles.” he made his voice as firm as he could, fear threatening to choke him, “What did you do?”

“...I managed to capture and bind the one who did this to you.” Achilles confessed, “I chained him, chained Sleep, like Sisyphus once did his brother Death.“ The ice in his veins turned to something far colder, his breath catching in his throat as his heart froze dead in his chest.

“You... You chained Hypnos?” he whispered with horror, remembering with a swooping nausea how Hypnos had reacted to the mere  _ mention _ of Thanatos being chained. If Death was half as protective as his ‘gentler’ brother... 

Suddenly terrified, he forced his arms to move, pushing at Achilles’ shoulders until the man sat up with a bereft look, Patroclus dragging himself up as well so he could paw at his well-built torso, running his hands over as much of Achilles as he could reach as he scanned fearfully for any sign of damage, however small. Hypnos was able to harm him without leaving a single mark on him, and his heart hammered at the idea of Achilles fighting down smoke in his throat, pain in his head, terror in his heart. He would, for Patroclus’ sake. He always put Patroclus’ feelings before his health, and it drove him mad at the best of times. 

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his healer’s eyes scanning him for any hint of injury as Achilles seemed to startle at the question, as if he’d been expecting a scolding, “Please, Hypnos is a force to be reckoned with, I must know you are unharmed! Did he do anything to you? Are you in any pain? Did he work any magic on you at all? Did Thanatos?” Achilles’ breath caught as he rambled, and he stared at Patroclus with something like wonder in his watery eyes, his expression shifting to something similar to worship as he let his lips wobble into a small smile. 

“I... I am fine, my love.” he murmured softly, lowering himself until he was laid out across the furs with his head pillowed upon Patroclus’ lap, those strong arms wrapping around his waist as if to anchor himself, “In the end, I... I let him go. I couldn’t do it.”

“You...” he blinked, taken by surprise, “You let him go? Willingly?” Achilles nodded, burying his face in the divot of his thigh.

“I did.” he murmured, kissing his hip, “Gods help me, I did.” 

“I-I’m glad. But... what stopped you?” Patroclus had to ask, holding him as best he could in their position, burying his fingers into that mess of yellow hair in the hopes of granting him some comfort. 

“I saw the look on Death’s face.” Achilles answered quietly, “His hood slipped off, and I saw his face, and... I recognized it.”

“Recognized it?”

“I saw myself in him, just for a moment.” he admitted, “That naked fear, that raw fury, that maelstrom of conflict in those hideous eyes. I had something precious to him, and he was powerless to take it back from me. For a moment… we were the same.”

“Achilles...” Despite himself, he felt a pang of pity towards Thanatos. Having already once been harmed in such a way before, and then to see someone he loved in the exact same situation... 

“That expression, that recognition, the way his voice broke when he realized I had his brother, the way that cowardly little  _ snake _ Sleep trembled and called his name and Death tried so visibly to contain his fear long enough to reassure him, it... it was too much for me, and I... I broke.” Achilles whispered, “I just... broke. I couldn’t... I needed you. I  _ needed _ you, and Sleep had taken you from me, but in the end I was too fucking  _ weak _ to do anything to him...”

“No.” he murmured with a soft, proud smile, squeezing him, “You weren’t weak, you were strong. You did the right thing, letting him go. I’m sure they understood.”

“I think they pitied me.” Achilles gave a humorless laugh, releasing him just long enough to turn so he lay on his back, tilting his head back to look up at Patroclus with tired eyes, “Or at least Sleep did. Death wished to kill me for what I did, but it was Sleep who talked him down. He was upset, I could see it, he was trembling in Death’s arms, but still he said to him... Oh, how did it go?” he raised his voice to badly mimic the high pitch of Hypnos’ voice, “‘You can kill him if you want, Than, but you’d have to let me go first, and neither of us want that right now’.” 

“You capture his manner of speech scary well.” Patroclus smiled, wondering how much of Hypnos’ cowardice was genuine and how much was to allow his big brother to be the strong protector of the two, “So he only spared you to avoid having to let go of his brother?” 

“That and... Sleep mentioned that he liked you.” Achilles’ mouth curled with displeasure, “He said you were ‘cool’, and that he didn’t want to see you cry. Though he made it very clear that he was only staying Death’s hand because you loved me and he liked you, and that were it not for ‘the weakness of your misguided heart’ he would slaughter me.”

“He said that?” Patroclus asked, embarrassed, “Ah, just ignore his words, Achilles. He strikes me as a very fickle god, his moods changed faster than the winds when first we met.” Achilles chuckled, reaching up to wrap a lock of dark hair around his finger.

“How do you do it, Patroclus?” Achilles murmured, his eyes soft and fond, “How do you make everyone, even gods, love you so easily?”

“I don’t.” he flushed, reaching out to lace their fingers together across Achilles’ chest, “You’re just biased. No one even looks at me, especially when you’re around. And that’s how I like it.”

“Sleep seemed to hold you in a decently high regard.” he could swear the mighty Achilles was pouting, and Patroclus didn’t even try to conceal his amusement at this ridiculous man being jealous of a god over  _ him. _

“Indeed, he was extraordinarily pleasant until I warned that you may retaliate against him and his brother.” Patroclus gave him a joking smile, “I’m just relieved to know that things didn’t need to get any more violent.”

“Violent?” Achilles scowled, his grip on his hand tightening, “Did he threaten you with something worse than this cruel slumber?”

“I’m simply grateful that they chose the path of least violence.” he demurred, stroking his hair with a diplomatic smile as Achilles buried his fingers in his hair, “This was the kindest possible result, I think. Despite it all, I’m glad it turned out alright in the end. Even if...“ 

“If?” Achilles asked, the calmness of his voice belying the flash of something dark in his eyes, “If what?”

“Even if I was once again a burden to you.” he swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat, “Once again you were forced to choose between me and glory. I am immensely grateful that you chose me, but I wish with all my heart that you did not have to.”

“Patroclus.” Achilles said lowly, lifting their entwined hands to kiss them, “Cease those spiraling thoughts. Of course I chose you, there was never any other option.” 

“I’m still sorry.” Patroclus says softly, pained, “For my doubts, and for everything else. I never wanted to be an obstacle or a weakness. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps?” he asked impassively, and Patroclus lowered his head. 

“Perhaps your mother is right about me.” he whispered, and immediately regretted it when white-hot fury twisted Achilles’ face. 

_ “Don’t.” _ he hissed, yanking at his hair a touch too hard, “Don’t you  _ ever _ say that again, Patroclus. You hear me? Never again!”

“Sorry.” he said immediately, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even think that.” Machaeon had told him that self-depreciating thoughts were like fire ants. If you let one in, their friends would soon follow in a swarm. Patroclus was… working on it. 

“You are the best of men.” Achilles said intently, “Never forget that. Even if the entire world devalues you, I will always be by your side.”

“Achilles, I-“ The entrance to the tent rustling caught their attention, and their heads snapped in unison to look as a soldier stepped in, young and pale and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. When he saw Patroclus sitting up, his eyes open for the first time in weeks, his jaw dropped.

“P-Patroclus, sir!” he exclaimed, “You’re awake! This is wonderful news, A-Achilles sir, I’ll inform-“ Achilles was up and on his feet in an instant, shielding Patroclus from view as he grabbed a dagger,  _ Patroclus’ _ dagger, and he could only imagine the vision his lover must make at that moment. He almost envied the poor soldier. 

_ “Get out!” _ Achilles snarled, poised like a lion ready to pounce, or a wolf defending its mate,  _ “Now!” _ The poor soldier let out a terrified yelp, turning tail and scurrying out of the tent as if Hades himself was on his heels. Achilles muttered darkly under his breath as he stalked forward to close the tent flaps that the boy had carelessly left open in his flight, tugging a bit too roughly as he tied it tightly shut. Patroclus blinked, wondering what on earth all that was about as his heart chose that moment to remind him how much he loved when Achilles got territorial. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” he breathed as Achilles returned to his side, sliding into the bed and pulling him back into his arms, his chest to Patroclus’ back as he clung to him like an octopus, “He was probably only doing his job.”

“Doesn’t matter.” he muttered petulantly, “I just got you back after weeks of Tartarus on Earth. I will allow no interruptions until I’ve reassured myself that you aren’t a figment of my desperate mind. Nothing and no one will take even a sliver of my attention from you.”

“You’re hopeless.” Patroclus said fondly, and Achilles nuzzled his hair with a huff.

“Absolutely.” he agreed, “Get ready for me to be an absolute embarrassment of a doting wife for the foreseeable future. We can’t know what the health effects of a magically induced sleep include, so I must keep my eye on you.”

“Looks like I’m trapped.” Patroclus laughed softly, “What a nightmare, having my Achilles dote on me in the aftermath of a peace well earned.” At that, Achilles made a quiet noise of contemplation, resting his chin on Patroclus’ shoulder. 

“It’s strange.” he said quietly, “I thought I’d be more upset about losing my chance at glory and immortality. Yet, with you in my arms granting me that smile I love so much…” he nuzzled his cheek, far more affectionate than usual, totally uncaring of the effect it had on Patroclus’ poor heart, “Those eyes I missed so terribly. That voice I’ve been deprived of for so long. How could I feel anything but overwhelming joy?”

“Even if those chthonic twins probably hate us now?” he joked, “And when we die we’re almost definitely going to have to deal with them?”

“I can handle them, especially with you at my side.” he said easily, “Although I admit, I can barely remember either of their faces, so I likely wouldn’t recognize them at first glance regardless.” Patroclus blinked, and in trying to recall what Hypnos’ face had looked like he realized with surprise that he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember a single detail of the god’s appearance, not even something as insignificant as his hair color. Even the memory of his voice was fading, leaking from his head like sand through his fingers, unstoppable no matter how he scrambled to retain it. 

“I... I cannot recall Hypnos’ face either.” he said with wonder, “I cannot recall a thing about him beyond the fear he inspired. How strange… All I remember was that I could not look directly at him, and that I feared him.”

“You don’t have to fear him.” Achilles said immediately, tightening his embrace, “I swear that fiend will never touch you again. No one will. You’re mine, and the next fool who tries to take you from me will not fall so easily to my misbegotten pity.”

“Be at ease, Achilles.” he soothed, tilting his head to kiss his cheek, “I’m here, okay? You have me. Now and forever, you have me.”

“I have you.” Achilles echoed, lifting a hand to Patroclus’ chin, guiding his head up so he could place a gentle kiss on his lips. Patroclus closed his eyes and melted into his embrace, his free hand lifting to lace their fingers together once again as he felt all his worries melt away in the wake of Achilles’ kiss. He didn’t know how long they remained there, trading chaste kisses and soft touches, but he could sense that Achilles was holding himself back from deepening his kisses, his hands trembling where they touched him, and he felt a deep adoration for this man who willingly gave up everything he dreamed of just for him, who submitted himself to the humiliation of obedience simply because he found the other option to be utterly intolerable, and still after all that, he thought only of Patroclus’ happiness. 

There was a time when Patroclus thought that he didn’t deserve Achilles, but now he realized it didn’t matter what he deserved. Achilles was his, and he was Achilles’, and now that he didn’t have to share him with an entire army, an entire world, he was going to hoard him like the Ferryman hoarded coins. 

“And we have a future now.” he whispered as they finally parted, Patroclus not feeling up to anything more vigorous than kissing right now, “You and I, we can do anything we want now. We’re free.”

“We could return to Chiron.” Achilles suggested, easily acquiescing to his whim, “Or live by the sea. I’ll build you a house with my bare hands.”

“You can write your poetry and sing your songs, maybe teach local youths to fight.” Patroclus smiled, “And I can study the stars, or medicine.” He pictured the future he’d once been so afraid of, only ever able to imagine blood and darkness. But now, he saw Achilles as a mentor to a gaggle of village children, telling them war stories by the fire and scaring them with his monster impressions while Patroclus tended the fire and studied the heavens. He saw Achilles lazing the day away, playing his lyre and singing his songs while Patroclus hunted their dinner, coming home to Achilles’ eager kiss and welcoming arms. He saw the two of them growing old together, wrinkles and gray hair and fragile bones still not enough to diminish Achilles’ spirit and Patroclus’ humor. 

A future he’d never dared dream of, now theirs for the taking. 

“I’ll fill thousands of books with drawings of you.” Achilles gently brought him back to earth, murmuring softly against his jaw, “So future generations can see how beautiful you were. How much I loved you.”

_ “Someone, I tell you.” _ Patroclus murmured, remembering the young poetess whose work he so adored,  _ “In another time will remember us.” _

“In another time.” Achilles echoed, leaning in to claim his lips again as if drawn in by some irresistible force, and Patroclus was not too proud to admit that he was helpless to it as well. Kissing Achilles was like swimming in the Lethe, dangerous and nectar-sweet, making him unable to focus on anything else.

“How strange.” Achilles smiled against his lips, “Perhaps I didn’t give up my immortality, but rather I gifted it to you. A worthy trade.”

“Well, if you’re so determined to immortalize me,” Patroclus laughed into the kiss, so full of love he could burst, “I’ll just have to find a way to do the same.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Achilles asked indulgently, and Patroclus seriously thought about it for a moment. 

“I don’t know.” he admitted with a little grin, “But it looks like I have plenty of time to figure it out.” 

“That we do.” Achilles’ smile was like the sun, and in its warmth, the last remnants of Hypnos’ shadow finally receded, “We have all the time in the world now.”

Perhaps they owed Hypnos a thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achilles can vaguely remember what they look like because he’s a demigod, whereas Patroclus is mortal and therefore cannot. I can see Patroclus becoming an astronomer, but that may just be because I’m obsessed with space and projecting. Also special thanks to my friend Sophie, she’s a classics major and told me some really cool stuff about how like because Achilles’ dad took Patroclus in that made Achilles the head of household and therefore in charge of Patroclus’ safety, which adds some fun stuff I think

**Author's Note:**

> I know logically the whole butterfly thing was probably after the era of ancient Greek mythology, but Hypnos is sleep itself and he can do what he wants. Next chapter is when Patroclus wakes because as much as I would love to write Achilles completely losing it, I think the imagination is always better than anything I can write


End file.
